


another one for the songbook

by thedevilchicken



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Come as Lube, First Time, M/M, Monsters, Rescue, Sloppy Seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Jaskier gets himself into a sticky situation with a friendly troll that turns to stone at sunrise. Geralt, of course, is the one who comes to his rescue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 638
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2020





	another one for the songbook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).



Jaskier had been in some ridiculous situations in his time. 

And fine, so this wasn't the worst - he didn't think his life was actually in danger, unlike the many and varied times he'd been chased with a truly wondrous multiplicity of blunt and edged weapons and been forced to hide in haylofts and undercrofts and, on one particularly memorable occasion, under a lady's extremely wide skirt. He wasn't scurrying around on the floor pretending to be a bustle, at least. 

And fine, so this wasn't the most embarrassing, either - nobody was actually around to see it, unlike the time he'd been caught at it with a town mayor's wife and been led out of the locality both a) naked, and b) with a rope neatly knotted around his genitalia. It had chafed a bit, and the fact they'd let him put his boots back up but absolutely nothing else really hadn't done much for his look. Maybe he was naked again, but he wouldn't have friction burns on his balls for a fortnight. 

Of course, a simple word like _naked_ didn't quite do the situation justice. _Naked_ was just the prologue. He was naked in the middle of a wood that had seemed particularly creepy while he'd been lost in it the night before, and he suspected the oaf who'd told him all about the so-called "shortcut" would be having a good old chuckle at his expense by that point. 

That point was: he was naked, and he was lost, and what had seemed dark and dense and very nearly terrifying in the dead of night was now bright and light and airy in the morning. Birds were singing, sunlight filtered through the pretty autumn leaves that shifted in the gentle breeze, and Jaskier was impaled on a foot-long stone cock that he was having some trouble removing himself from. 

Then, someone nearby cleared their throat; when Jaskier craned his neck to see who it was, and how concerned he should be as a result of that, well...of course it was Geralt of Rivia. 

"Geralt," he said. 

"Jaskier," Geralt replied. He put his hands on his hips. He surveyed the scene. "This is a surprise." 

Jaskier gave him a skeptical look. "Is it, though?"

Geralt narrowed his sparkly gold witcher eyes, which looked remarkably nice in the morning sunlight. "No," he agreed, which wasn't exactly shocking. It wasn't even the fifth most ludicrous thing he'd caught him doing, though Jaskier supposed it might have made the top ten. "What happened here?" 

Jaskier sighed. "Well," he said. "Some unmitigated arsehole in the tavern back in Blye told me about a shortcut through the woods. So, I took the shortcut through the woods, except there _is_ not shortcut through the woods. And after I'd been wandering around all day like a bloody fool, getting loster and loster, and the sun set, and a wolf howled, and it turned out I couldn't start a fire, I thought, well, if this is the end, I might as well go out singing. So I sang. Turns out it's harder than you'd think to play a lute when you can't see your hand in front of your face. And I thought that was it, I was going to die in the woods playing the wrong fucking notes, but then I met Ygm." 

Geralt made a face. "Ygm?"

"Ygm." Jaskier jerked a thumb at the shapely boulder behind him. "The troll." 

"I see." 

"Can I continue?"

Geralt flapped one hand mock-magnanimously. "By all means," he said, and Jaskier frowned but took a breath. 

"So. Well. I thought I was going to die right then and there, rent limb from highly attractive limb, and you'd be finding bits of me for the next three years. I'm sure you'd have been devastated, Geralt. Wailing and that sort of thing. Inconsolable." He mimed said wailing. He mimed tears down his face. Geralt did not seem particularly moved. "But it turns out he's actually very nice. A music lover, who'd have thought. Did you know trolls can see in the dark? I mean, yes, witcher, of course you know, but I didn't. And he couldn't get the fire started, either, but he said I had a pretty voice and you know me, Geralt, prone to a bit of flattery every now and then. Aren't we all? So I sing for a while and we talk for a while and he's very articulate for a troll, the last one I ran into just said _grr_ a lot, like, what does _grr_ mean? And one thing led to another, you know how it is, but neither of us was paying much attention to the sunrise and I'll admit that was where we went wrong." He paused. He gestured. "So, here I am. And here you are. And here Ygm is. You're all caught up." 

Geralt stepped around in front of him, which Jaskier had to say was a relief given how he'd had to twist his neck to see him. He crossed his arms over his chest. Weirdly, Jaskier thought, he looked more out of place in the forest than the troll did. 

"So, you want help?" Geralt asked. 

Jaskier looked down at himself as best he could. He was on all fours on the forest floor; the troll, who'd seemed rather dashing by admittedly extremely vague moonlight, was kneeling behind him, his rather impressive erection pushed in deep, with one long arm wrapped snugly around his middle and the other hand around his cock. He was stuck. Well and truly. All the exasperated wriggling in the world had only managed to work up a sweat and incidentally reignite his arousal, not pry him loose, so he'd spent a few awkward minutes fornicating with Ygm's rather large stone trollhood and really, pleasant as the orgasm was, he wasn't sure it was entirely worth the hassle. 

"Do I want help?" He put his hands on his hips, which was to say he hung oddly from Ygm's arm and put his hands on a stone wrist and a stone elbow approximately where his hips lay underneath. "You know, Geralt, yes, the thought had crossed my mind." 

"If you're going to be shitty, you can wait for sunset," Geralt replied. "I'm not the one who fucked a troll that turned to stone. Everyone knows they turn to stone." 

"Well, I wasn't exactly planning on the _turned to stone_ part." Jaskier sighed dramatically and put his hands back down. He supposed at least he'd had the foresight to spread his cloak on the ground so he wasn't getting dirt stuck to his palms, but that didn't help the fact that he was kneeling on a twig. Of course, that also meant he'd got come all over the velvet, and that was never going to wash out. "Look, Geralt. It might seem like I'm having a wonderful time but it's been what, three hours since dawn? Please tell me there's something you can do." 

Geralt pulled his sword from his back; Jaskier raised his brows. "Preferably without lopping off his arm," he added. 

The look Geralt gave him as he came closer was particularly withering and he knocked on Ygm's head, like a tavern door except without that pleasant woody sound; it was more like slapping a side of beef against a millstone. "He's trollstone," Geralt pointed out. "I could hack at him all day and it wouldn't leave a scratch." 

"So, what are you going to do?"

Geralt gestured at the troll. "Sunlight's the problem," he said. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

He didn't actually know, given Geralt couldn't make the sun set, but he soon found out. Geralt gathered up all of Jaskier's discarded clothes - they'd ended up impressively widespread, he thought, thanks to some haphazard but enthusiastic stripping in the dark - and started draping them over Ygm's rather large stone frame. He put his shirt over one lower leg and his doublet over the other, trousers hanging around his neck like a strange green stole...and he promptly ran out of material. He tied Jaskier's blanket around his waist, and tied his own around his shoulders, but it still wasn't enough. 

So, Geralt grimaced and took off his jacket and tucked it around Ygm's arm around Jaskier's waist; his warm fingers brushed Jaskier's skin and made him shiver. He took off his shirt and tucked it around Ygm's other arm, and around his hand around Jaskier's cock; his warm fingers brushed Jaskier's skin and made him blush. Then Geralt hopped around like an idiot to pull off his boots, one foot then the other, and with a heavy sigh of resignation he took off his trousers. He was naked underneath them - what had happened to his underwear was probably a tale for another time - and he tied his leather trousers around Ygm's head, with surprising neatness under the circumstances. 

"Is this actually going to work?" Jaskier asked, trying very hard not to eyeball Geralt, who made an interesting picture standing there in just his medallion and a pair of worn old socks that had slouched down around his ankles the second that his boots were off. "Or are we just nude in a forest together for no particular reason?"

The irritated look on Geralt's face said he wasn't going to reply, but conveniently it seemed he didn't need to. Ygm's hips began to move, stiffly but surely, and Jaskier felt his face turn what he was sure was a very flattering shade of red. Geralt arched a brow. Jaskier made a face. Fine, yes, so it was working, but now he had the Butcher of Blaviken watching him be buggered by a semi-lithic troll swathed in an amalgamation of their clothing and at least one blanket that smelled strongly of horse. 

"Oh!" Ygm said. His hips stopped moving quite abruptly. "Oh!" he said again, partially muffled by Geralt's trousers. " _Oh_!" he said, again, and Jaskier felt a sudden fluttering pulse of Ygm's no longer quite so stony appendage still tucked inside his arse. He knew what that meant, and his face got even hotter. Geralt apparently also knew, because he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows at him. 

"Move," Geralt told Ygm, what seemed like an entire eternity later, then gripped his blanket-clad shoulder and clarified, "Slowly, I want my clothes back sometime today." 

Ygm moved. "I'm so terribly sorry, Jaskier," he said, in his still rather incongruous upper crust accent, as he eased his member out of him. "I seem to have rather lost track of the time." 

Then Geralt whipped his trousers off his head and Ygm promptly turned back to stone, and Jaskier couldn't help but think he'd been wrong before: this was possibly the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done. Because his slightly sore arse was leaking what felt quite a lot like a whole bucketful of troll ejaculate and Geralt - _Geralt_ \- was standing there naked with his trousers in his hand, frowning at him as the stuff dripped indelicately from his scrotum. The cloak was _definitely_ not going to survive the ordeal. 

Jaskier pushed himself up onto his knees and sat back on his heels with a completely unimpressed groan. He looked up at Geralt, who was still looking down at him. Then Geralt's gaze dropped down between Jaskier's thighs and when he looked back up, his expression said, _Really?_ He supposed he understood: his ridiculous body had apparently decided, against all possible better judgement, that this was its cue for a rush of blood to the groin. He was stiff as the neck of his lute, which was really quite fragile now he thought about it so he probably meant he was stiff as Geralt's sword. His gaze dipped down. _Oh_. It turned out Geralt's sword was very stiff indeed. 

"Oh," Jaskier said. 

"You sound like the troll," Geralt replied. 

Jaskier stretched, then he gestured to Ygm's rather petrous penis. "And you, you know, you look about as hard as him," he pointed out. 

"I've been accused of worse." 

"I'm fairly sure you've _done_ worse." Geralt grimaced. Jaskier shrugged. "So, how about it?" he asked. 

"How about what?"

"Do you want to do worse?"

"I don't--" Jaskier leaned back down, though what fit of lunacy possessed him to do so was completely beyond his grasp. Geralt's brows rose. " _Oh_."

"Now who sounds like Ygm?" Jaskier said. 

" _Ygm_ sounds like I swallowed my wine the wrong way," Geralt replied, rather grumpily, but he didn't disagree. And he didn't say no, either. He came closer instead, threw his trousers to the ground and knelt behind him on the cloak, and Jaskier felt him part his cheeks and rub the rim of his come-slicked hole with the pads of his rough fingers. Jaskier supposed they had that in common - the callouses, not the come, though both could probably have been arranged. Geralt's were from swordplay and Jaskier's from playing of a different sort, though the lyricist in him said maybe they played well together. 

"I think you just don't understand the language," Jaskier said, as Geralt was sliding the length of his cock between his cheeks, over his hole. "Maybe _Ygm_ means _sunflower_ or _bluebird_ or _light breeze through the trees in the morning_."

"Do you speak troll?"

"Well, no." 

"Does it mean that?"

"I have no idea." 

Geralt paused. He pressed the tip of his cock to Jaskier's rim. "I think it's more like _shit timekeeping; likes fucking humans_ ," he said.

"Don't you?"

"Don't I what?"

"Like fucking humans."

Geralt pushed in deep, one long thrust, nothing he wasn't prepared for but it made both of them groan out loud in concert. 

"Sometimes," he agreed. Then he started to move. 

Maybe he wasn't quite as long as Ygm, but that was probably because he wasn't seven feet tall and made of photophobic trollstone. Maybe he wasn't quite as thick as Ygm, but Jaskier thought the fit was still good and tight. He definitely wasn't complaining as he braced himself for Geralt's next jarring thrust. 

"You know, I'd never had a troll before today," Jaskier said. 

"Last night, technically."

"I'd never had a witcher, either." 

"If you don't be quiet, you never will again." 

"Oh Geralt, is that a threat or a promise?"

Geralt reached around over Jaskier's hip and wrapped one hand around his cock. "Both," he said, and he stroked him tightly. 

Jasker was quiet after that, for the most part - as much as Geralt was, at least. The birds in the trees were probably louder than they were, except when Geralt came in him just like Ygm had before, with a grunt that sounded rather like a word or two of trollish. Then he pulled Jaskier up onto his knees and back against his chest and proceeded to perform a truly heroic feat of wankery that got him off in record time - he supposed he'd had a very long time to practice, and he said so, and Geralt didn't disagree, he just grazed Jaskier's shoulder with his teeth and made a noncommittal noise. Then he stood, and he turned, and he frowned a Ygm's stony form. When Jaskier joined him, he could see why. 

They spent an hour teasing their clothes from all of Ygm's nooks and crannies, then they dressed. Jaskier gave serious consideration to just burning his cloak but given his luck for the past few days, he didn't really want to push it or he'd probably burn the forest down. 

"So, where are we going?" he asked, as Geralt mounted his horse. 

" _We_?"

"You know, you and me." The horse gave an indignant whinny. "And Roach. When did beasts of burden get so touchy?"

Geralt scratched Roach between the ears. "I was heading to Blye," he replied. "Heard they might have work." 

Jaskier frowned. He narrowed his eyes. "You know, I never asked why you came this way," he said. 

Geralt looked down at him and, if he hadn't known better, he might have almost called that look amused. Maybe he didn't know better, because he could've sword Geralt was grimacing to hide a smile. 

"I thought you knew," he said. "It's a shortcut." 

He didn't feel very much like going back to Blye, but he tagged along with Geralt anyway. He played and sang in the tavern again while he lounged at Geralt's table, and when Geralt went up the stairs to his rented bed, he tagged along there, too. The way Geralt kissed him when they got there made him shiver, though he knew he'd very likely only done it to get him to shut the fuck up. Then Geralt, with surprising patience, forbearance and a long-suffering sigh, let him strip him out of all his clothes. It was better in bed than it had been in the forest, face to face on a mattress, even if Geralt scowled all the way till they were done. Fewer twigs, though, Jaskier thought, and he wouldn't get stuck like that at sunrise. 

At sunrise, in fact, Geralt nudged him up onto his side and had him again, slow and deep and warm under the faintly musty sheets, with one hand splayed wide and pressed tight to his chest. Jaskier's arm went to sleep but he didn't mind; not very long before that he'd have given his right arm to fuck Geralt of Rivia, or at least his right leg - he wouldn't have wanted to give up playing the lute. A few minutes of pins and needles in his fingers seemed like a comparatively small price to pay. 

And, in the morning, when the villagers sat them down and told them all about their troll problem, Geralt just snorted then finished his drink. 

"You know, he's actually very nice," Jaskier told them. "Lonely, I think. Likes music. A surprisingly attentive lover." 

The villagers weren't entirely sure what to make of that. And, unsurprisingly, Geralt didn't take the job. 

They said their goodbyes to Ygm in the woods on their way out of Blye that night. Geralt lit the fire this time - apparently the minstrel and the monster had just been similarly incompetent in that particular direction - and as they sat by the flames they told him to be careful - the villages were two steps away from torches and pitchforks, though mostly because it seemed they'd got nothing better to do. 

"And please don't fuck strange men in the woods if you can't keep an eye on the sunrise," Geralt told him. He pointed across the fire at Jaskier. "That counts double for him." 

Ygm nodded seriously. And, in the morning, they left. 

"You know, we should have done this years ago," Jaskier said, as they were walking; they were taking the road south toward Cintra, but who knew where they'd end up. 

"We shouldn't have done it now, never mind years ago," Geralt replied, but Jaskier could tell he didn't mean it. In the inn that night, in the next village they reached, Geralt showed him just how much he didn't mean it. 

So fine, it hadn't been the worst situation that he'd ever been in; Ygm was never going to kill him, given he was clearly a lover not a fighter. And fine, it hadn't been the most embarrassing; a bit on the awkward side to start with, but the sex had quickly made up for that. Maybe his judgement hadn't been everything it could be. And maybe there was a much maligned drunk in a tavern in Blye that he owed an apology, given everything he'd said about shortcuts was true. 

As they left the inn and moved on again, Jaskier tuned his lute; he had a song to write. 

And, if he was really lucky, it might make Geralt crack a smile.


End file.
